


Seize The Fate

by mosslover



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Illness, Kissing, M/M, Mild Angst, Sea Voyages, Unrelated Fíli and Kíli, viking AU (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosslover/pseuds/mosslover
Summary: Life has never been easy on Kili. He has always endured all the blows dealt to him, but when a golden-haired warrior with a soft heart appears in Kili's life only to be taken away again, it is one blow too many. And Kili will not let fate have the last word.





	Seize The Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ofahattersmind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofahattersmind/gifts).



> Written for ofahattersmind on tumblr for the Durin's Day 2018 gift exchange, inspired by [this beautiful drawing of hers](http://ofahattersmind.tumblr.com/post/115251327989/k%C3%ADli-leapt-up-as-f%C3%ADli-limped-slowly-through-the) <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Kili learned from a young age that life could be both sweet and cruel.

There on the sweet side were his mother’s honeycakes, baking on a hot rock next to the fire in their small house, a house with moss on the roof. There was her sweet voice, her dark hair flying in the wind as she gathered herbs for infusions on the plains above the sea. She knew plants and roots and what medicines one could make of them, to soothe pain and ease fevers, and in his innocent child’s eyes she was the most skilled of all healers, though she always said that the druids in Celtic lands were the best ones. They could cure any ill.

There were no druids around when she caught a fever herself; Kili’s father tended her as best he could and Kili himself ran up the slope above the towering cliffs to gather what herbs he could remember. They were probably the wrong ones, and they were no help at all. She was gone in three day's time, and the little house stood shrouded in mourning.

From then on, it was just Kili’s father and Kili, and despite the gaping absence in their lives, they got on as bravely as possible without the bright laughter and gentle wisdom of Kili’s mother around. Kili’s father taught him the stars, taught him sailing, taught him how to fish and hunt when there was time. He was a gruff man, strong and tall, and when he laughed it was this booming sound that bounced off the stone walls of their house as he told stories on long, dark winter nights, the fire making shadows flicker across his bearded face. Kili, huddled in blankets and furs, felt safe as he listened to his voice and drifted off.

A spear aimed wrong in a hunt was what took Kili’s father away.

He went to live with his aunt after that; she was a cheerless woman, not thrilled to be saddled with a ten-year-old mouth to feed when food was getting scarce all around and winters harsher and longer. Kili, steeped in grief and shock, did his best to be of help or stay out of her way, depending on her current moods, and always ate as little as possible to not be a nuisance. But it was hard when his body insisted on growing.

They lived outside the main settlement; an older woman and a boy with barely-fitting clothes and subdued eyes. Not too far from the small cottage was the chieftain's training field, and the clashing of swords and the thunk of axes hitting the round targets carried over frozen grass to Kili’s ears every day. He listened, picturing the fighters in their glory and skill.

He wanted to become one of them: a fighter, a warrior. Sometimes, he could glimpse the men through the trees when he looked up from his chores, half-starved and cold while they were boisterous and full of energy, their weapons catching sunlight as they fought. 

Every night he dreamed this could one day be him.

 

But fate wouldn’t have it.

Kili’s aunt grew frail and the boy, now fourteen, was more than she could manage. And so she brought him to the chieftain in hopes he could be made apprentice somewhere, earn himself a place to sleep and food to eat.

It was the first time Kili stood face to face with the leader of his settlement. Thorin was clad in an impressive black fur coat, rings encircling all his fingers and runed beads woven into his beard. He listened to Kili’s aunt and then asked the boy what he thought he wanted to become.

For a second, hope sparked inside Kili’s heart, and before anyone could stop him, he blurted out: „I want to be one of your fighters!“

Thorin’s eyebrow rose in surprise and he gave a small smile, more to himself than anything else. Kili stood, heart standing nearly still inside his rib cage as he waited, and then Thorin spoke.

„I have enough fighters right now. No, we're going to do something different with you: the blacksmith’s son had died of fever two weeks ago and he needs an apprentice." He measured the boy with his gaze and then nodded to himself. "I suppose you will do...“

Kili's shoulders fell, hope seeping away like blood from an open wound. "You may go," Thorin informed him, already turning to whoever would step up next to plead a case.

 

 

The blacksmith was about as glad of the arrangement as Kili. Reluctantly, he took on and taught the boy who had come to take the rightful place of his son; he fed him almost enough and paid the prescribed apprentice fee. It barely covered the cost of new clothes Kili sorely needed, and left a bit of coin which secured him a full belly once in a while. The blacksmith’s shop was dark and hot and the opposite of what Kili wanted: to be out on the grassy earth, to learn the song of the sword and shield, to parry and thrust and throw and lunge, to hear the swish of the blade as it cut through the surrounding air.

But he had long since understood that he did not get to make his own choices; not yet. If ever that might change.

He did, at times, sneak to the training ground after his work and chores were done for the day; he’d pick up one of the wooden swords then and do his best to imitate what he’d seen the rightful warriors do.

 

And then one day -

„Not bad for a scrawny kid like you,“ a voice said behind his back.

Kili whirled around, proud that the shock hadn't made him drop the weapon he was trying to attack a beaten old pole with. Doubly so when he realized that the person behind him was the chieftain’s nephew, Fili: golden-haired and amused-looking in the pale light of the summer evening. Kili had seen him around the training ground before; he'd seen him in the council room at times of feasts and ceremonies open to everyone. It had to be at least three years or more since Fili had come to live here with his mother, Thorin's sister, after his father's death; Kili couldn't help but feel a connection to Fili after finding out. 

Now he was standing a mere three feet from the blond man. Kili gulped, afraid he might be in trouble for sneaking in, but Fili just watched him with curiosity.

„I’m not a kid,“ Kili retorted. „I'm of age. And I’m taller than you.“

Fili curved an eyebrow, muscle twitching next to his lip as if he had to work hard to suppress a smile. „Most people are,“ he said, thoroughly unbothered by this fact. He studied Kili for a moment, until the youth grew uncertain under the steady gaze of the pale blue eyes. „What are you doing here so late?“

„Isn’t it obvious?“ Kili said, rather unhelpfully.

„If you want to learn how to fight, you’ll need someone to teach you,“ Fili said. „Though I must say, you’re doing passably on you own.“

„For a scrawny kid, I know,“ Kili added wryly. He cursed himself for speaking to Fili with such belligerence: he liked him, for Odin's sake, and here he was stubbornly making short retorts...

The last one made Fili blink and Kili braced himself for anger or indignation. Instead, Fili bowed with a small smile which was both rueful and teasing. „I see that I had chosen my greeting poorly. I humbly beg your pardon.“

The chieftain’s nephew, apologizing? It was unfathomable.

„You’re mocking me,“ Kili said.

„I’m not,“ Fili said. And then he stepped closer and took up another wooden sword even though he carried a short metal one at his belt. „Look, this is the proper stance. Otherwise you are limiting your range of motion and opening yourself up to the enemy from this angle.“

Kili stammered. „What - what are you doing?“

„Showing you how to do this properly.“

„Why would you waist your time with me? I’m not even supposed to be here.“

Fili abandoned the warrior’s pose and lowered the sword. „Maybe not... More importantly, where is it that you are supposed to be?“

Kili shrugged. „I’m not avoiding my work, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m a blacksmith’s apprentice, so I suppose I should be at the forge now, sleeping in my corner and wishing I could be anywhere else.“

„You don’t want to be a blacksmith?“

„It was not my choice, and besides, I’m not very good at it.“ Now Kili felt like a petulant child, despite insisting earlier that he was not a kid anymore. „I wanted to be a something else.“

„And what is that?“

Kili kicked at a clump of grass with the tip of his boot. „A fighter – a warrior. Like you.“

Fili was smiling when Kili looked up, and a strange sensation, like a plucked string of a harp, quivered inside Kili’s ribcage when he saw Fili's soft expression, framed by golden hair.

„You’ve the makings of one,“ Fili said, and this time, his smile gave Kili no reason to doubt his sincerity. „You just need to know what you’re doing.“ He looked to the left and right as if checking that no one was watching, and then said: „I technically shouldn’t be here either. But I could get away sometimes and teach you.“

„Why?“ Kili frowned, though the saying his aunt used to repeat – about not looking a gift horse in the mouth – came to mind. „Why would you do that?“

„I might be the chieftain’s nephew, but I know what it’s like to only ever do as others say.“ Fili lifted his chin at Kili, narrowing his eyes in offer and challenge. „This will be out secret?“

Kili nodded, excitement swelling like tide deep within at the sudden strike of luck.

 

They met at the training ground every few evenings, when duties and chores allowed. Fili was a patient teacher, and for only being a few years older, it was obvious he was well versed in the art of the blade. Kili learned fast under his guidance, growing to like the chieftain’s nephew more and more each day. Steadfast and determined, but quick to smile and slow to take himself too seriously, Fili drew Kili out of his cautious shell and taught him not just how to wield the sword and throw the ax, but also how to do so with confidence.

Weeks and months added up and Kili found himself smiling every time he thought of Fili and their training sessions. He did his work at the forge with much more zeal now, eager to be done and see Fili. There were evenings when he had to stay into the night to finish a job and evenings when the golden-haired warrior did not appear, and those days brought acute disappointment; but then there were the glorious hours of sparring on other nights which more than made up for it.

As season rolled into season, Kili and Fili would stay longer, cooling off after intense training by going to the nearby stream and splashing their faces with the cool water that trickled down from the glaciers. They’d share stories: of their families, their past. Kili was slow to open up but Fili easily won his trust with his steady, reliable nature.

And one night, Kili brought Fili to the house with moss on the roof which stood abandoned on a hill above the cliff, outside the village. The door gave when Fili pressed against it and they stepped in, surprised to find a dusty old bed and a few everyday items still inside, undisturbed. Kili walked up to a wall where his mother’s dried herbs were still hanging and the sight filled his eyes with tears. Then the floor creaked right next to him and Fili’s hand fell warm and gentle on Kili’s shoulder, brushing away a few strands of hair. Kili froze and risked a glance at him, eyes going wide and pulse quickening at the touch.

Fili leaned in and kissed Kili on the lips, slow and questioning. Kili's eyes fell shut and held perfectly still so as not to break the beautiful moment.

And when Fili pulled back, the cautious inquiry still written in his features, Kili was more than ready to offer his answer: a kiss returned and hands tangling in Fili’s glorious golden strands.

 

 

Life was sweet again. There was still the reluctant apprenticeship which took up most of Kili’s days, but at the end of them, more often than not now, there were the hours spent with Fili: sparring on the training ground, walking along the edge of the settlement hand in hand, sliding under the dusty blankets in the house with mossy roof. It was another secret: here, in the house from Kili's childhood they were alone to offer their bodies and souls to one another.

A glorious year went by, and then half of another, and suddenly only months were left before Kili would be free to leave the blacksmith’s shop for good, free to do as he wished. He grew more and more exuberant by the day, the prospect lighting him on fire.

And yet Fili was troubled: each winter which had passed had been worse and worse, stores of food were low and even fish and game were low. The last winter had seen even more deaths of those who had not had the means to make it through and in the early spring, some people resembled wraiths more than human beings. Now, in early fall, it was finally decided by the village council: an expedition must be led to new lands across the seas. It was a long journey and only one ship could be spared, so twenty men would go: warriors and hunters mostly, to explore the new lands and bring back news. Then, perhaps, a constant settlement could be made.

 

„If you go,“ Kili said the night before the council would decide, „if Thorin sends you, I want to go with you.“ They were parting ways in front of the little house, and the first bite of autumn frost was on the night air.

Fili nodded, huddling inside his cloak. „I’ll tell them you’ve trained. And I’ll tell Thorin of our intentions to pledge ourselves to each other.“

Kili kissed him and sent him off, hoping the good fortune would stick, that maybe he had left all the bad luck behind.

All of next day he was on eggshells, and his work in the forge was lousy, earning him a yelling from his master. Kili endured, though, fanning his hopes that neither of them would go or both, that they could be together, officially, for good.

And then, finally, when the day was done – 

Fili stood at the edge of the training ground, and from the cautious expression on his face, from the slump in his shoulders, Kili could tell the news was not good.

Fili was to lead the expedition.

And Kili was not going to be in it.

 

 

“Thorin did promise that after my return, we may come to him for permission to marry,” Fili tried to soothe the wound, downcast himself, and Kili looked up at him sharply.

“He will grant it?”

“He said so, or as good as,” Fili said, sounding as if he wanted to be convinced of it more than actually believing so.

“And you think he truly will? He doesn’t know me.”

“He said he would. It’s the best we have, Kili, and it’s enough, for now-“

“Is it?” Kili looked up at the man who was going to be leaving in two days’ time, and his heart was breaking in his chest. “I’m going to go speak with him, show him my skill with the sword –“

“No.” Fili put a hand onto his chest. “We can make it through. Stay, Kili, stay here and finish your apprenticeship and keep practicing and when I’m back, we’ll speak to Thorin again. He gave his word he’d let us be together next year, but first you must finish your training –“

Kili gritted his teeth against the helpless anger. “I’m ready to go, Fili, you know it.”

“Perhaps, but it’s not my decision!” Fili said and now his own frustration was rising, and that was not what Kili had wanted. But how could he stay, how could he watch Fili sail away without Kili by his side?

The next night, long past sunset, Kili sat alone on the steps of the small house. He knew down at the shore there was work being done, the ship being readied, and that Fili’s crew would be leaving at the morning tide.

It had to be nearly midnight when Kili heard footsteps approach down the path.

“I know you’re here,” Fili’s voice came from the dark, and Kili closed his eyes and at first said nothing, his heart in his throat.

“Kili, please.” The playful, if tired, challenge was gone from Fili’s voice now. He must have spotted Kili where he sat on the because he headed for him now and Kili stood, the soft plea in Fili’s voice threading directly into his heart.

They stared at each other in the darkness, grass licking at their feet in the gentle breeze.

“The ship is ready,” Fili said.

Kili looked away.

Fili sighed. “I know you’re angry, but the decision was never in my hands.” His face was hidden in the shadows, his pain concealed in the pause that followed. “Let’s not part like this, Kili.”

It was the uncertainty in Fili’s voice that broke Kili’s mute streak: he sucked in a quick breath and then he was holding Fili’s face between his hands, rushing now to kiss, to reassure, to feel.

“I wanted to sail by your side,” he said between breaths, kissing Fili’s slowly warming lips and then retreating. “You’ll be gone tomorrow, and I don’t think I can bear it.”

“Then don’t think about it,” Fili said, he who always thought ahead, reasonably, carefully. “You have me yet, we still have this night-“

“It’s not enough,” Kili said, throat full and eyes beginning to burn.

“No, it’s not,” Fili agreed and his voice was harsh with emotion too. “But we can make use of it anyway, make it ours even if nothing else is.”

Kili kissed him again, like sea crashing into shore. And he led him inside.

What hours were left they filled with nothing but each other, hands on skin, bodies moving together in the light of a solitary candle. The old bed creaked and groaned as they quested for fulfillment and Fili laughed at times into the crook of Kili’s neck and at times he sounded so undone and felt so hot and alive in Kili’s arms that Kili thought he’d perish if he was made to feel even a sliver more.

It hurt to feel so much, to know that the next night would be nothing but cold memories on the forge’s straw-covered floor. It was worth the scars on his heart, though: he’d endure more in exchange for the possibility of Fili’s return.

“Tell me you love me,” he whispered later, as they lay intertwined in the midst of their blankets.

“I hope I haven’t given you a reason to doubt it.” Fili’s gaze was steady, though his eyelids were heavier now that dawn was near.

Kili shook his head.

“Don’t doubt it now, then, just because I’m going away. I’ll come back in the spring, you’ll see.” Fili moved his hand over Kili’s jaw, fingers spreading over his cheek. “And Thorin will keep to his promise when I return…”

Kili wanted to believe it. He said nothing but he leaned into the warm, familiar hand, melted into its touch. It quelled his need for physical closeness while it lasted but even now, it did little to soothe away the fear: the fear that fate would once more twist all happiness out of Kili’s reach.

 

 

Fili wore the complete absence of sleep well the next morning; in front of everyone, he looked the role bestowed on him. Thorin’s nephew, young and capable. Not as valuable as Thorin’s three sons but important enough to be given this dangerous, noble mission.

The parting ceremony was fast: Thorin’s lofty speech, the blessings for the voyage and the crew, the final moments of solemnity before the twenty men would depart. Kili stood apart from the crowd, his eyes not leaving Fili for one moment as he tried to remember how the sunlight lit up each strand of his hair, how he cast a wry glance up towards Kili every so often, how he turned around one last time as his men boarded the ship and gave a final salute that seemed to be aimed at the everyone at the shore. Yet Kili knew it was only meant for him.

He was the last to stand at the shore, long after the ship was gone from sight. He watched the waves lap at the beach, watched the horizon that never moved yet was never the same. The sky was blue and cloudless but a dark storm seemed to be drawing over Kili himself, made of fears and doubts and pain.

He’d have to live with it, until Fili’s feet were back on this land.

 

 

Winter passed and spring came and with it, no ship. The horizon stayed empty, dark, and hopeless, storms of the season passing across it and beating against the shore every once in a while. Kili’s worked as metal hissed and blazed, sweat running down his brow and trickling down his lengthening hair. He ate and tasted nothing, he slept dreamlessly some nights and on others he would wake startled, a vision of Fili pursuing him into reality. Fili on some distant desolate shore, alone, shouting, shouting something…

And the chieftain and council did nothing. Thorin was silent. He trusted Fili, he’d say again and again, his gaze unwavering under those fearsome brows. It was too early to declare the venture a disaster; it was too early to send another expedition, it was sowing time and they were already twenty men short.

Fili would come back, lead his men back.

Some days, Kili wanted to tear his own hair out at the lack of action; some days, he wanted to tear out Thorin’s.

The grasses along the shore were starting to burst into blooms of purple and pink and white when Kili had finally had enough. He could not play the dutiful apprentice any longer; he had to cross the sea and find Fili and the rest, or what was left of them.

Knowing fully well the extent of displeasure he’d earn should he be found out, he gathered precious supplies nonetheless – food, water, furs, medicines. He started to move them into the ship he’d been eyeing – small but sturdy, just about manageable by one reckless person.

Because that was what Fili would call him: reckless. And perhaps it was. But what if – gods, what if Fili was in trouble, stranded, somewhere, thirsting, starving, ailing –

The thought, the _image_ always cut through Kili like a set of vicious claws, making his heart constrict and shrivel. And lately, with each day, with each slight shift of stars across the horizon, the sense of urgency inside Kili grew until it was all he could do not to scream.

 

He stole away one windless night, the ship silent in the absence of waves lapping up its sides. He steered it out towards the vast open waters and for the first time since Fili had left, since Kili had last seen the blue gaze hold his own in a solemn promise, for the first time, as the breeze slowly picked up out on the open water and blew hair from Kili’s face, for the first time he felt _right_. He stared at the stars, familiar to him like the backs of his own calloused hands, and mapped out the path Fili said they would take.

Lead me to him, he commanded the flickering pinpricks of light above with the audacity of desperation. I need to find him, I need to find Fili, he’s alone somewhere if that dream was true.

Please.

Water was all he knew, for days and days. Above him in the skies, raining down, at times a mere sprinkle and at time a deluge. He’d strip and let it wash him, accepting it, never fighting against anything the sky brought down on him. He did so with the waves, too, even if the seas were raging around him; he’d let them, steering the small vessel so that it wouldn’t capsize but leaving rest to the elements.

And then one clear day the horizon appeared, and Kili knew the stars had led him true. He didn’t know this land; as he approached it, he saw beaches and rocks, tall, thick pines and small twisting trees, rough cliffs and picturesque inlets taking turns lining the sea. His heart beat high in his throat as he scanned the shores for any sign of Fili’s expedition, for the first time wroth to take a rest lest he miss something.

For a few days, he followed the coast south, but there was nothing: not a trace. The only movement ever were critters by the shore, some familiar-looking and some utterly strange.

And then, on the fifth day since the shore had appeared, he spotted it: the wreckage. Or what was left of it: some of the timber had been dragged ashore from the shallow rocks where Fili’s ship had met its end, to make fire and a makeshift shelter. He shouted then: Fili’s name, words, hope.

Nothing stirred. Kili turned his boat to the shore, carefully navigating around the treacherous rocks to make a landing and go search for clues as to what had happened to the men. Face set in grim lines, he didn’t at first register the lone figure, sitting slumped in the shade at the base of a massive tree. But then his heart leapt with wild joy upon spotting it and he shouted again, incoherently, when he recognized the golden hair, the wide sturdy shoulders, the tall forehead –

The figure looked up, just as Kili threw himself into the surf, water rushing into his boots. He pulled the boat in on to the sand, heaving and impatient, glancing back at Fili to make sure he hadn’t imagined the sight.

He hadn’t. Fili stood up, holding on to the tree as if for support, and then he started walking, looking as if his legs could barely hold him. “Oh gods,” Kili dropped the rope and finally abandoned the ship, deeming it high enough for now not to be carried away. And then he was sprinting forward, kicking up sand as he flew forward to the person staggering towards him. Fili’s mouth was moving, but Kili couldn’t hear any words over his own frantic heartbeat –

With fifteen feet left between them, Fili stretched out his arms as if to stop Kili from coming any further. And finally, Kili caught his voice, raspy and barely there: “Don’t, Kili, don’t come any closer, you shouldn't come near me-“

Kili halted, eyes wide with terror. From up close, Fili looked terrible: his clothes in tatters, the skin of his face flushed and lips pale as if he had a fever. His hands shook and his blue eyes were glassy, barely focusing.

“Fili,” Kili breathed. “What’s happened? Where are the others?”

“They're dead,” Fili said, swaying slightly as he stood in the warmth of the mid-day sun. “From some cursed sickness, I don’t know where it came from but we've crashed the ship and this shore is diseased, I’m ill too now, and –“ His knees seemed on the verge of giving out but when Kili made to move forward, he shook his head again, vehement. “Oh, Kili, you came, I hoped and dreaded that someone would, that you would, but don’t touch me, you might catch this too, please-“

“Of course I came, how could I not?” Kili said, sobbing. “Thorin wouldn’t do anything, he kept waiting for you to come back and I couldn’t stand it anymore, not knowing, seeing you wretched in my dreams, I had to come-“

“It’d be best if you didn’t,” Fili said, then looked towards the shore where Kili’s boat swayed gently with each wave. Realization hit Fili then: “You came alone… you reckless, stubborn, crazy fool, oh gods, Kili, I wish-“ he started falling then, and Kili leapt forward to catch him. Fili’s weak protests were easy to brush aside, but not so the fear for his lover's life that gripped Kili when he felt his dry, burning cheek against his own.

“I’m going to take you home,” Kili whispered. “If we hurry we’ll make it before the big summer storms come. You’ll get healed, and we’ll train together again, and-“

“No medicine we’d brought did any good,” Fili groaned as he tried to right himself, but Kili picked him up instead and carried him to the boat. “Nothing, nothing did any good… And we were afraid to drink the water here after a while, and-“

He was growing agitated, his chest rising and falling fast with hurried breaths. “Shh,” Kili soothed. “You're still alive, and that's something... I brought water, I have enough for the two of us to return, and food-“

“I can’t – I can’t. My throat burns, it's useless-“

“We’ll find a way.” Kili carried him to the boat and placed him in it gently, then pushed it back out towards the empty horizon. “Rest, Fili. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

 

 

Fili seized with fever at times, and at times he had a racking cough that made him gasp for air for long minutes. Forcing him to sip water and swallow moistened bread was not an easy task as Fili either refused or, if he managed, half the time he couldn’t keep any of it down for long. Sick with worry for him, Kili remained doggedly determined, pleading with the stars again lest he be too late bringing Fili back to their lands, to help, to healing.

The wind favored them, pushing them forward day by day as if the stars had heard. Kili slept huddled next to Fili, heedless of Fili’s concerns that he might come down with the same illness. He kissed Fili’s temples when Fili was sleeping, holding him down whenever the uncontrollable shakes started. Stripped him when rain came so they could rinse off sweat and dirt and salt from their bodies, then covered Fili’s naked form with the furs and blankets in the sheltered part of the vessel.

Days went by, and Fili endured.

“Almost home,” Kili would tell him at night, and it was more true with each hour. “Hold on…”

But as their lands drew nearer, as the sea started taking on a familiar hue around them, a reluctance took root in Kili’s heart, making him rue each yard they covered. He'd only had a swift return on his mind but now that they were close, he had to think of what would come next. Fili had said that all the medicines they’d brought had not  worked. Would the healers be able to cure him at all? And with what, if the tried methods already failed?

And if he did recover, would he and Kili truly be together? Thorin had promised to consider it, but how much did that mean, come to think of it? He had not sent help when he’d said he would, should Fili’s expedition not return. Now he could just as easily find new use for Fili, and new venture for the dispensable, dutiful sister-son. And Kili, Kili would likely be punished for abandoning his apprenticeship, for taking a ship that was not his, for the supplies he had taken without permission.

Their fate seemed less and less certain with each thought that raced through Kili's head. They were not yet home; they were a day or more away still, what was there to do? He had to find a way to heal Fili, he had to make them safe...

Kili mapped out the sea around them, the layout of the lands and islands they knew, and suddenly his mother’s voice echoed from a memory of her plucking narrow-stemmed flowers in the meadow. The druids were the best healers, she used to say… and they were to the south, five day’s worth of sailing south on the sea.

Without thinking, Kili turned the vessel.

As soon as he did so, the worry seemed to give; the frantic questions seemed to dissipate. He stared in the new direction, taking deep breaths as he tried to force himself to rational thought. Water and food would be scarce towards the end. But they’d make it if they took care. And he had brought all the silver coin he’d saved from his apprenticeship: surely the metal would pay for food, water, medicine, something… If not, he could endure a few more blasted days or weeks at a forge. At least that apprenticeship would amount to something useful after all...

He smiled to himself and went to adjust the sail.

“Kili, what's happening?” Fili hadn’t missed the ship’s sudden maneuver even in his drowsy state; surprise colored his raspy voice.

“My mother always said that the Celts had the best healers,” Kili replied casually. “So I thought we should visit them and see if they can cure you."

Fili closed his eyes, a shudder passing through him. "You think so?"

"Yes." Kili took a deep breath. "And besides, I don’t trust Thorin to keep his word, Fili. He won't let us stay together, not if it doesn’t suit him. "But if you want, we can return, now or after I take you to the druids-“

“No.” Fili shook his head. “No, you're right. I’ve done my duty to Thorin, and if it wasn’t for you, I’d still be across the sea, dead or alone. Now, my only duty is to you.”

“Your only duty is to get well,” Kili retorted, biting his cheek to stop himself from smiling victoriously. “Though once that happens, I wouldn’t say no to a proper kiss.”

“You can have that and a lot more, once this cursed disease passes from me.” Fili held Kili’s gaze, and though his blue eyes were still a little glassy, they were determined as well. “Take us away, Kili. We’ll find our own place, wherever that may be.”

Kili nodded, and smiled, and rearranged the stars in his head for their new destination.

Life could be sweet and cruel, but whichever way it might turn out, they'd be making their own way now; it was time to seize the fate.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for coming along on this voyage. Let me know what you thought please <3


End file.
